


The Missing A - Support

by Zorudo



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: First Dates, M/M, Post-Blue Lions Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), dweebs eat spaghetti: the fic, ft. Annette: designated wingwoman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-08 11:40:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20834861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zorudo/pseuds/Zorudo
Summary: “Dimitri.” He felt his voice before he heard it. Vibrations making their way up his throat and out in the open air. He wasn’t sure what came over him either, be it the wine giving him a hit of liquid courage, or maybe he was moved by the prince’s confessions. Maybe it really was the late hour.





	The Missing A - Support

“You did what?!” Annette rose from her place at the table, leaning her body over to emphasize her distress. “Do you even know what that implies?!” 

Ashe cringed, leaning away from her intrusion of his personal space. “No, not really? I mean, was it really such a bad idea?”

“Ugh.” She rolled her eyes, plopping back down to her chair. “Ashe. Sweet, naive Ashe.”

“Naive?” He frowned as he shook his head. “I came to you for some advice Annette, not to get criticized the entire time.”

She stabbed her fork into her salad, twirling it around as she huffed at him. “Wellll, I’d advise using a little more tact when you're casually asking the future King of Fargus out on a _ date_.” she pointed the fork at him, a stray piece of lettuce threatened to fall right off. 

He anxiously glanced around the dining hall, holding his hands out to silence her. “_Shhh _! It’s not- that wasn’t what I...” 

Annette plopped the fork into her mouth, crunching the lettuce between her teeth as she gave him a pointed look. “Yeah, suuure.” She swallowed, lifting the napkin on her lap to daintily wipe at her mouth. “It’s nothing more than an intimate evening dinner between a handsome prince and his not-at-all-lovestruck knight, sharing a homemade meal under the stars and the dim glow of candle light.”

Ashe felt his face flush at the insinuation. “H-hey, that’s not-” 

She giggled into her palm. “Don’t you dare get any ideas on how the candlelight might flicker and reflect off his long golden locks, or how you might have to lean closer to get a good look, his eye meets yours as he-” 

“That’s enough!” Ashe rubbed at his face as if it might rub away the pinkness of his cheeks. “Quit making up this hypothetical scenario, I just offered to make him dinner. I’ve done that sort of thing before, it’s nothing new.” 

“Yeah, during kitchen duty, when you were serving the entire army.” Annette twirled her fork absentmindedly, leaning her elbow on the table as she rested her head into her palm. “That’s hardly the same as offering to cook for him one-on-one.”

“I know, but he’s been working himself ragged ever since we won the war, I thought the least I could do was... I don’t know, something that might lift his spirits, even if only a little.” Ashe’s plate has long been left untouched, his fork being used to mindlessly poke and prod at a carrot chunk. “I’m no good at politics, and I don’t know the first thing about restructuring a Kingdom after war but...” he sighed, placing his fork back on the table. “This is something I’m good at, you know? Something I can do for him that isn’t fighting, he doesn’t need that anymore.”

Annette smiled, and got up. Making her way around the table to sit next to him and swing an arm around his shoulders, pulling him in close for a firm hug. “Aww Ashe, you definitely are. Between you, Mercy, and Dedue, we’ve got all of Fargus’s best chiefs right here under Garach Moch Monastery!” She loosened her grip on his shoulder to get a better look at his face. “I’m just giving you a hard time Ashe, what you wanna do for him is actually really sweet. If you say it’s nothing more than helping a friend out, then that's all there is too it.” 

He smiled and shifted his eyes away. “I didn’t say that, exactly...” 

Annette raised her brow. “Oh?” 

“I mean, It’s like you said before. The implication is there, I just, uh... I didn’t actually say it _ was_, you know.” 

She pulled her arm away and nodded back up at him. “All righty, I getcha.” 

“Don’t worry, I know better than to hope for something more than just sharing food with him anyways. I mean, he’s a prince, and I’m-” 

“-His loyal a devoted friend, of which he cares for very much?” She raised a finger at him as she continued to cut him off. “None of that self-deprecation here, you already know he doesn’t care for titles or prestigious positions, much less so now that he’s getting ready to become King.”

“Maybe, but he deserves someone who-” 

“-Who will appreciate and care enough to look out for him when he’s too busy to do it himself?” Annette used her raised finger to gently boop him on the nose. “Someone like... you?” 

Ashe’s nose scrunched up, his freckles shifting around with the movement. “Can I speak?” 

She hummed, pulling her hand away. “You may.” 

“Thank you.” He looked over their unfinished and abandoned plates of food. He imagined Dimitri sitting on the other side, Hair shaggy and long, just barely touching his shoulders. Would he wear his cape? Layered with fur and flowing elegantly down the expense of his back, really emphasizing the broadness of his shoulders. It was hard to imagine him without it, it’d been so long since he’d seen him in any other state other than prepared for battle. Would his face relax? Soften under the safety of peacetime, knowing that today they could dine and share thoughts that had nothing to do with tactics or tomorrow's battle, because tomorrow's battle would never come. Would his shoulders relax? Loosen up without the constant tension of war? Would he wear his armor? Surely not, that sounds hardly comfortable for a meal. Then what would he wear? Would he put his hair up? Would he laugh at a joke? Would he smile? Would he smile at him? For him?

Ashe shook his head, coming out of his temporary distraction. “I don’t know, do you think I’m overthinking this?”

Annette put a hand on her chin and shrugged. “As the specialist in over thinking I can safely say you're thinking about it just enough. But I think you're stuck worrying about things you don’t need to be.” Annette got up from her chair and brushed off her skirt, putting a hand out for Ashe. “Come on.” 

“Hm?” Ashe took her hand as she got him to his feet, stopping only to take both plates and deposit them in the dirty dish pile before leading him out of the dining hall. 

“We can’t have you going on your date looking like that, we’re gonna gussy you up before you start cooking so you and the food will be ready when he comes by.” 

“I-I am in no need of gussying Annette, please.” 

“Sure you say that now, but you’ll be thanking me when Dimitri gets hungry for more than food.” 

Ashe sputtered and nearly stopped on the spot. Uselessly being dragged along by an insistently determined, stubborn small women. 

_______________________________

He was regretting his decisions. 

Ashe stood, apron wrapped neatly around his waist, catching any stray droplets of sauce from the pot as he stirred it’s contents, evenly distributing the ingredients throughout the pot. 

After being all but shoved into the showers for a quick refresher, Annette had insisted on putting him in “dressy casual” attire. Not too forward, not too much, but still dressed up for the occasion. She fumbled about his closet, chastising him for his multiple identical outfits, and settled for dressing him in black slacks and dress shoes, topped with the most moderately nice white button up he owned. She even experimented with putting makeup on his face, ultimately deciding against it as the foundation she tried tended to cover up his freckles, and his naturally pale lashes already complemented his minty green irises without mascara. Instead she brushed out his hair, tucking the left strands behind his ear the way he liked it, and fluffing out the fringe that framed the side of his face. 

The whole ordeal lent nothing to quelling his nerves, if anything, it only added to his growing anxiety. Seeing himself so dapper in the reflection of Annette’s mirror only gave rise to the fact that he was dressing up for someone, someone he will spend time with, together, _ alone _. 

He removed the pot from the heat and gave the sauce a final stir, scooping an adequate amount on a wooden spoon before spreading it evenly over the two plates of steaming noodles already laid out on the counter. Setting the empty pot aside, he sprinkled a basil garnish on top for a finishing touch. 

“What an enticing aroma. Though, I should expect no less from such a renowned chef.” 

He nearly jumped two feet in the air at the sudden remark, spilling a bit of the basil over his hands and on his apron. 

“Your Magest- wait no, I mean My- Dimitri!” The color drained from his face as he scrambled to get the lid back on the container. “P-prince! I meant my prince, Dimitri…” Ashe screwed his eyes shut, feeling the weight of unbearable humiliation pour through the drumming of his heartbeat. He only cracked them open when he heard quiet laughter. 

“Have I flustered you? Forgive me. Just Dimitri is fine, we’ve talked about this before, yes?” 

The prince approached him at his place behind the counter. His hair was tied back, loose strands too short to fit in the ponytail stuck out and framed his face in a way that looked natural, yet flattering. His cloak was absent, instead he was sporting a comfortably loose-fitting tunic and dark blue pants, dark boots to match. Without all the fur and armor to constrict his view, Ashe got to see the broad curve of his shoulders, no high collar to obscure the view of his neck and exposed area of the collarbone that tunic failed to conceal. 

Ashe was left awestruck and he wasn’t even _ trying _. 

“Yes, sorry, force of habit.” Ashe was wiping away at the basil that clung to his hands, placing the container back on the shelf it belonged to. “Why don’t you have a seat? I’ve just finished preparing the food so I'll bring it over in a minute.” 

“Oh, you don’t have to serve me-” 

“No please, I’d like to.” Ashe made shoo-ing motions with his hands. “I’ve already got a spot set up, if you don’t mind.” 

“Alright.”

Dimitri sat at the edge of one of the many long dining tables where placemats and napkins were already set. A small lantern cast its warm glow over the metal of the utensils. It was the only one illuminated, since all the other dining inhabitants had long since gone away for the night. No real need to re-illuminate an entire dining hall for two people. 

Ashe quickly scrambled to get the dishes into the sink and wiped his hands clean, grabbing a plate in each hand and straightening his back. He took a breath, spun on his heel, and approached the table.

“Order for two, Spaghetti _ alla Ubert _.” He gave a playful bow and placed the dishes on the table.

Dimitri cocked his head to the side, giving him a sly smile. “Your apron Ashe, it’s still on.” 

“Hm?” Ashe looked down, he was right. Covered in sauce, basil and all. “A-ah right. Hold on.” He untied the knot at his back, awkwardly shuffling back to hook it on the wall before taking his seat across the table. 

Dimitri just smiled, a sound like a chuckle rumbled deep in his throat. Ashe felt his chest swell with pride, even if it was just his awkward sputtering, he got a smile. 

“This looks amazing Ashe, is this a family recipe? One of Lonato’s archives?” 

He shook his head a little. “Not Lonato’s, my birth family’s recipe. My parents ran a small restaurant on the outskirts of Ferdiad, and this was one of the first dishes I got to learn. Spaghetti was simple enough to teach little 7 year old me without much hassle.” 

Dimitri hummed in acknowledgement as he twirled a piece on his spoon, intermingling the sauce and noodles. 

“Oh! I brought out some toppings if you’d like.” Gesturing to the parm and pepper shakers on the side of the table. “Ah, wait the drinks- I left them in the kitchen, hold on-” 

“Please, allow me.” 

Dimitri got up and disappeared into the kitchen before Ashe had a chance to object, coming out with a bottle of wine and matching glasses, setting them both on the table as he poured a generous amount into each glass. He sat back down, placing the wine bottle on the table between them as Ashe sprinkled a dash of parmesan onto his own plate. 

“Thank you.” Dimitri said, taking the shaker from him. Ashe watched in silent horror as the food he carefully devoted his afternoon preparing slowly got buried under a mountain of cheese.

“... Did you want spaghetti with that parmesan?” 

Dimitri stopped, a smile creeped over his features. “Oh, now we’re here to be critical of the King’s taste buds are we?” 

“_Maybe._” Ashe said, ginning into his glass as he took a sip. “If the King had taste buds to be critical of.”

His expression had well been worth the jest. Mouth slightly agape as he registered his words, letting out a genuinely surprised laugh. “I did not realize you were capable of such _ slander _, Honestly. Wounds from battle can’t compare.” 

The meal went by. The two exchanging jabs, jokes and conversation in between bites of their food, catching up on all the things they couldn’t with the mindset of war looming over their heads. It felt surprisingly light and easy to speak to him like this, Ashe never imagined it could be like this. That _ they _could be like this. Even back at the monastery he had idolized Dimitri, always seeing him as a figurehead of the kingdom, someone to be looked up to, to be worshipped. But here, he nearly forgot their status, their roles in the world, like everything beyond this room took pause to a plate of spaghetti and a absurd amounts of Parmesan.

Dimitri described his meetings with the professor, and how they were up discussing the logistics of sending aid to the regions of the Kingdom that needed it the most. “And what of you? If you don’t mind me asking. What do you plan on doing once we return to Fargus?” 

Ashe mulled over the question, the answer came quick to his tongue. “What I really want is, well, what I’ve _ always _wanted. I’d like to serve as a knight to the kingdom, give my time to helping anyone I can, to devote my life to protecting the people of Fodlan.” 

Ashe didn’t think much of his words. Too engrossed and comfortable in conversation to think of repercussions. “To protect you.” 

“Protect… me? hm.” It must have been a trick of the light, the dimness of the lone lantern made it appear as though Dimitri’s cheeks sported a pink hue. “Truly, I don’t know what I did to deserve a knight of your caliber. You’ve more than proven your loyalty and capabilities as a soldier, you’ve even saved my life a few times over already. Should you wish it, I’d be honored to have you in my ranks.” 

“Are you being serious?” He held a fist over his heart, sitting up in his chair and puffing out his chest like all the other knights he’d seen in his village folktales. “I swear on my life I won’t disappoint you, my King!” 

Dimitri flashed him a warm smile. “I believe you, but we’ll have to save the formalities for after the coordination.”

He nodded and put his arm down. “Of course, My Dimitri.” 

He was _ mostly _teasing this time, and surely he was making a stretch in thinking this. But the way the prince turned his head away seemed almost bashful. 

Once the plates where empty and they had reached a lull in the conversation, Dimitri finished his glass, wiping at his mouth with the napkin. “I can certainly say this meal was nothing short of absolutely wonderful, thank you for treating me to such a fine evening, Ashe. It was a pleasant respite for things to come.”

Ashe stood up, grabbing his empty glass and plates to put away. “Thank you for indulging me, I’m really glad I got to spend a little time with you before life comes to take you away in a mess of post-war restoration.” 

They gathered up their plates, placing them by the rest of the dirty dishes to be cleaned out in the morning. 

“It’s gotten rather late, I didn’t anticipate keeping you for so long. Here, let us walk back to the dormitories together.” Dimitri stood by the exit to the dining hall, holding a hand out expectantly.

Ashe stared at it for a second, and quickly caught himself. “R-right of course, I’d like that.” He tentatively placed a palm in his, noting how this might’ve been the first time he’d felt his hands without gloves, calloused and warm. The same hands he’d seen turn the tides of war now held onto his, gently tugging him along through the exit of the dining hall out into the outside air. 

________________________________

The moon was reduced to only a sliver, leaving the stars to do most of the work illuminating the monastery as they walked. It was calm and comfortable, the silence they shared. They weren't in a hurry to get anywhere just yet, wordlessly deciding to take the long way round to get back to the dormitories, an unspoken agreement to prolong their time out. 

There was a rustling in one of the bushes ahead, breaking the peaceful quiet. Ashe halted his pace, grabbing the crook of Dimitri’s elbow to stop him too. “...What was that?” 

“What was what?” Dimitri said, looking to follow his line of sight. The bushes rustled again, this time parting away to reveal a spotted brown and white cat, relentlessly chasing after a particularly noisy cricket. 

Ashe let out a sigh of relief, releasing his hold on Dimitri’s elbow. “Oh good, just a cat.”

“You look rather relieved, were you expecting something else?” he spared a glance over at the elusive cat and it’s freshly captured midnight snack. 

“Well... you never know! The guards don’t patrol at night as much anymore since the war ended, it could have been an intruder, a thief maybe o-or…” 

Dimitri only grinned mischievously “Or...? Something not of this world?” he crept closer, hunching over to exaggerate the effect. “Something… Supernatural?” 

“It’s a _ possibility _.” Ashe puffed up his cheeks and shoved at his shoulder. 

He hardly budged. “Do you fear them? The ghosts?” 

He wanted to deny it, wanted to be able to look him square in the eyes and say that apparitions of the dead wandering the dark halls of the monastery stirred absolutely no strong emotion in him, especially not fear. The denials died far down his throat, instead rebuking his remark with a stutter and defensive- “Y-you don't?”

Dimitri’s expression shifted, something a little more pensive, unreadable. Void of that previous playful nature. “No. If anything, I’d say I feel for them.” 

Ashe just looked at him wearily. “For... ghosts?” 

His eye glossed over, and for just a moment, he got that look that used to consume his face when he’d spend his days staring at the rubble of the goddess statue. Distant and not altogether. Muttering incoherent nonsense to himself, and barking at anyone who tried to get him to stop. The moment passed as soon as it came. “Only the ones who cling to me. The ones who claw at my back and shoulders, whose droning voices occupy my empty thoughts, and appear before me beneath shut eyelids.” He brushed a hand over his neck.

“There was a time. I would speak, as if I were one of them. And when I did, I truly felt like I believed that, like… I wanted it to be true.” He shifted his gaze to Ashe, the look he gave was so intense that Ashe had felt himself grounded in it. “Once, I feared the ghosts. Feared what they might say to me, what they might think. But... I do not let them harm me. Not anymore.” 

Dimitri leaned down and interlaced their fingers, Giving Ashe’s palm a light squeeze. “I won’t allow them to harm you either Ashe, you can rest easy.” 

Ashe’s hand laid limp in his grasp, eyes blown open and mouth dry. He never expected to hear so much from Dimitri, much less things so personal. He struggled to find the right words to say. He must’ve stood there too long however, as Dimitri’s gaze shifted from his eyes to the floor, then up to the sky, then ahead of them. “I apologize, I don’t know what came over me. It must be the late hour, making me want to prattle on and on about seemingly insignificant things. We really should be heading back-” 

“Dimitri.” He felt his voice before he heard it. Vibrations making their way up his throat and out in the open air. He wasn’t sure what came over him either, be it the wine giving him a hit of liquid courage, or maybe he was moved by the prince’s confessions. Maybe it really _ was _the late hour. 

Ashe raised a cautious hand to Dimitri’s cheek, the brush of fingertips coaxing him to turn his head. He had to lean up on the tips of his toes to reach over, pressing a light kiss to his cold cheek. “Thank you.” 

It was quiet, too quiet, _ uncomfortably _ quiet when he pulled away. Dimitri’s face was pale under the starlight (Was he always this pale?). One icy blue iris blown open in a way that made Ashe feel like he had morphed into one of the ghosts he’d described before. Ashe felt cold all over, the night air was suddenly very apparent to him, very insistent and just so very _ uncomfortable_. 

“I-I’m sorry, I’m... _ really _sorry.” Ashe tried to step away, to give him space, to catch his own breath (When did he stop breathing?). But he was stopped. Looking down to see that their hands were still connected- Dimitri hadn’t let go. On the contrary, he gripped harder, almost needlessly so, and pulled. 

Ashe suspected he would've fallen flat on his face, had it not been for the strong grip on his shoulder keeping him upright, and the firm press of lips against his own. If he wasn't breathing before, he certainly wasn’t now. 

Almost as soon as it came, it was gone. And the quiet wasn’t nearly as unbearable as before. Just the sound of nervous laughter, and breaths intermingling in the cold night air. 

“Forgive me, It seems that... I’m a bit out of practice.”

He felt the corners of his mouth curve upwards, he couldn’t possibly stop the massive grin splitting his face, or the bubble of laughter escaping from his throat. 

“We can work on that.” 

**Author's Note:**

> They had such a cute support! it's a shame it only stopped at B.


End file.
